


All The Right Words

by Lt_Zoe_Jebkanto



Series: The Gardens of Earth [2]
Category: Alien Nation
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-27
Updated: 2013-09-27
Packaged: 2017-12-27 18:13:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/982065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lt_Zoe_Jebkanto/pseuds/Lt_Zoe_Jebkanto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Cathy's first-ever birthday celebration and Matt wants everything perfect, especially the present with the Tenctonese note that he hopes conveys what he feels for her... in ALL THE RIGHT WORDS...!</p>
            </blockquote>





	All The Right Words

All The Right Words

 

Closer, closer, closer. Something behind him. Louder, louder…

What was it?

Something that was shrieking, screaming that it wanted to catch up with him. Capture him. Hold him…

Matt ran. 

No way he was gonna give up, gonna surrender. Not til he knew what it was… Why it was after him… 

Police car, moving fast, flashing red lights throwing long black shadows across the ground ahead of him. Siren filling the air. A hum, a moan a shrieking wail…

Wait a second. Had to figure this out… There was something wrong here. Real wrong. He shouldn’t need to run… But the noise was so loud he couldn’t think-

Hard to run. Feet so heavy. Matt risked a glance over his shoulder. Yeah. There it was, a black and white, moving fast, flashing red lights throwing long black shadows across the ground ahead of him. Siren scream so loud it swallowed any other sound… White headlight eyes pinning him in their gaze-

Feet stumbling, thoughts jumbling. Something wrong here… Wrong with this whole thing, because he was… Forgetting something!

Gotta… He was panting now, he knew it, could hear the rasp of his breathing, feel the urgency of it, knowing there was something he had to do… Had to remember.

Knowing he needed to think… Had to go back over the details, because…

Hang on a minute, here! He was the cop! 

Man, he had to turn around, show his badge, so they’d turn off the siren and flashers and let him back in the squad car where he belonged. His hands fumbled as bad as his feet had stumbled and that God-awful noise made it hard to remember where his detective I D was. Jacket, yeah, but where was the pocket? Left chest? Nothing in there. Or in the lining pocket either. Shirt? Come on, come on! Dammit, what kind of shirt didn’t have pockets in it? That wail rose higher as, at last, he pulled his badge from his jeans pocket… And saw it fall through the light to the ground below. 

He dropped to his knees, flopped on his stomach, hands scrabbling through the shadows… When he had his badge, he could shut up that awful racket! The light bore down harder, slamming into his opening eyes as his palm crashed down on…

The snooze bar on his alarm. 

Oh, man, morning, crashing in on him so early after a long night’s work and a short night’s sleep.

* * *

“Cathy?” he said into the beautiful alarmless stillness, knowing already he wouldn’t get an answer. With her keener than human hearing, she hated that clock even worse than he did. That had to account for at least half the reasons she’d needed a space of her own after they moved in together. Smart. Maybe he should move in there with her and let the alarm have this room all to itself. 

But she wouldn’t be anywhere at all here. He’d’ve heard cupboard doors opening or closing, the shower running, or her sweet voice filling the first buzzer-free moments with a cheerful “Good morning, Matt!” All those little sounds that had become familiar parts of his morning, small noises that had turned this from the place where he lived into the place he called “home”.

“Hey, Cathy?” he said because he liked the familiar sound of her Earth name. Then “Gelanna?” he asked a little louder, loving the picture of her beautiful elegant face that her Tenctonese name painted for him.

But the only sign of her was a note on the pillow next to his. 

“Matt,  
Gone to hospital. Morning shift. Didn’t want to wake you. Orange juice in fridge. I love you.  
Cathy”

Who’d’ve thought he’d get himself mixed up with a doctor? With his crazy hours and hers, it was a wonder they ever got to see each other at all! 

He had to smile at that. He was surprised to be living with a doctor? Who’d’ve thought five years ago he’d be living with a woman from outer space, whatever her job was? Uncle Jack, maybe. He’d always talked about extraterrestrials coming to earth and stuff like that when Matt was a kid. But as for he, himself? Nah, no way. 

It had been cool when the Tenctonese crash-landed in the Mojave Desert, dispelling the idea Earth life was alone in the Universe. Like something he’d dreamed of when he was a kid and he and his Uncle Jack would look up at the stars at night and talk about who might be out there looking back. Kind of like a TV show become real. 

But when the push began to integrate them into human society, the L A work force and his precinct of the police department, that was a little too much reality as far as he was concerned. He wasn’t sure he’d be happy about how it was going to effect his life or career as a cop. Especially when he was the first Detective Three to get partnered with one of the Newcomers. 

Being teamed with George Francisco was like being put in harness with the guy from the old Six Million Dollar Man TV show. Faster, stronger, better, that was old George all right, and with no need for any of those fancy bionic implants, either. He had the endurance that came with having two hearts and a memory like a computer as well! Francisco would probably be out-performing him in a year! 

Matt put up with the guy at first ‘cause it was his job, but couldn’t imagine them ever really being friends. Or, later, that the friendship could survive George being promoted ahead of him to Detective Two. But that was a long time ago.

Now he couldn’t picture his life without George and his family as part of it. 

At first this visits to the Franciscoes had just been the occasional dinner, kind of formal, kind of awkward, as much to do with developing a rapport with his new partner as anything else. Then, later, there had been parties to go to at their house. Less formal. More fun. There was a large one to celebrate the announcement that George and Susan planned to have another child, their first on this planet. Susan, who had been an avid campaigner, organized an even bigger bash when the Constitutional amendment had been passed, granting the Newcomers their right to vote. He’d also been invited to several small, intimate candle-lit Descent Holiday suppers, each marking another anniversary of the Tenctonese coming to Earth. 

It had warmed some part of him, deep inside, being included in these close, family gathering, a part of him that hadn’t, until then, admitted to its long-time loneliness. 

And somewhere along the line, the get-togethers had become too casual and spontaneous to count, but not too routine to forget. Like that wild and crazy picnic they’d held for a whole crew of screaming and whooping kids after the championship season he and George coached Emily’s Little League team to a couple of years ago. 

That had been an out and out deafening blast! It had definitely helped a lot that by then Buck had stopped calling him “Tert” and had begun seeking him out once in a while to ask questions about what he and George did. And it meant more than words could express that he had been named as godfather to little Vessna. 

No, he couldn’t imagine his life without the Franciscoes in it. Any more than he could see a happy existence without that other refugee from the ship, his funny, elegant, beautiful Cathy.

When, exactly, had it been, that he’d begun stopping by her place to toss ideas around with her? At first, it was only to get a medical perspective on a case, wasn’t it? But later the opinions he’d asked her for went beyond the scientific, like what to buy for Albert and May’s wedding, or which sour milk to bring as a party gift for George and Susan. And when had he started asking her along to those parties? Or realizing how much he was missing her on the nights she couldn’t attend because she was working a late shift?

And why was he sitting here, thinking about all this anyway?

Because it beat looking back at the old chase dream. 

It didn’t scare him now like when he was a kid who’d had reason to dream about cops chasing him. That didn’t mean he liked it! Usually it meant he was in trouble again. Maybe not with anybody but himself nowadays. What chased him could be a clue in a case like last night’s that he wasn’t connecting. Or a project he planned to have done days, weeks, months ago. Maybe something important to remember, that he couldn’t. 

Wait a second! That one seemed right. 

There was a little tug behind his brow saying something was just out of reach in there, some idea he needed to get hold of. But as he padded down the hall to the shower, all that came to mind was reminding himself not to forget… Whatever it was. 

He pulled the shower curtain closed behind him and turned on the water. The first wincing cold blast sent the last of the dream scattering before the stream turned to exhilarating warmth. Only the need to capture that elusive idea stayed. 

Maybe if he pretended he was ignoring it for a couple of minutes,, the idea would creep back into the open where he could pounce on it. Aha! Gotcha! Good plan. 

He reached for the soap.

Hold on! This wasn’t his Irish Spring! No rectangular bar that was supposed to smell like the old Emerald Isle- not that he’d ever been there to take in the aroma. This was an oval that smelled like spring flowers… Like Cathy!

That was it! Cathy! 

The shower was no place to do a victory dance, but a good, whoop of pleasure would do no more than startle, or intrigue, the lady in the apartment upstairs. 

It was Cathy’s birthday! Hey! Great! That was what he’d wanted to remember! Cathy’s birthday! Her first since they’d moved in together!

Well, not that they were sure the date was exact. All the Newcomers had their birthdays calculated as close as possible by using star charts or whatever frames of reference they brought with from their ship. Not that they all had them. One problem with being a slave was kids got separated from their parents and the Overseers may not have considered the birth time of one more piece of cargo as important. So, for some, the date was a rough approximate. Or a moment of personal significance.

Cathy, cargo. A slave. Good God. He couldn’t imagine it, only knew the thought of it ate at his guts. Boiled them in fury. 

Maybe she, like George, possessed that incredible Tenctonese strength. (Oh, hey, wait!- There was no maybe about it! Once she’d- ouch!- more or less accidentally tossed him across the room.) But when he thought about what she had come from, he wanted to pull her close, hold her tight and protect her with everything he had. Let her know, that, despite the cruelties she sometimes still endured as a Newcomer to this often less than enlightened planet, he was very glad she’d landed here on Earth. 

Okay, so he’d celebrated the Descent holiday with her, as well as with George and his family for the last few years now. That was kind of like having a giant birthday party for all of the Tenctonese, for them starting a new free life anyway, but… It wasn’t- Wasn’t-

Well, it wasn’t specific enough. It wasn’t about Cathy in particular. It didn’t tell her how much she mattered to him. How important the day of her birth was, along with every day the two of them spent together, now and in the future.

Cathy had told him not long after she’d moved in, that she’d never had a mate before and wasn’t sure how to go about living with another person. Well, he’d had one, and when it came right down to it, after all those angry, confused, hurtful years with Victoria, he wasn’t quite sure he did, either. But there was something so good, so honest, between him and Cathy, he wanted her to know how much she’d come to mean to him.

Man, he just wanted to get this right for her. 

Not that he had the words that could tell her all that. Never had had the words to speak all the feelings filling his single human heart. But he’d got this idea when he’d seen that pendant in the store window… And, when that little light bulb flashed above his head, he knew- knew absolutely- that he’d found all the right words for what he wanted to tell her.

And he would let her know tonight. As part of the plans he’d put together to make the day commemorating her birth something very special.

For her, that chosen date was the one when the constellation, Cygnus, the Swan, was at its zenith in the skies of Earth. Matt remembered the night on the roof of their apartment building, standing with his Uncle Jack’s old telescope, gazing at the sky, when Cathy had pointed the star cluster out to him, said that was how she had liked to imagine herself as a young girl, as a graceful swan. So, on this, the day of Cygnus’ highest rising, they were gonna have themselves a celebration.

He’d come up with some great ideas about what he wanted to do after work tonight to show her how much she’d come to mean to him.

So, now that he’d remembered what today was, why hadn’t that little tug behind his brow melted away under the hot stream cascading down on his upturned face?

Okay, he already knew they’d be able to spend the evening together. He’d made sure to call the hospital late yesterday afternoon. Asked a friend of Cathy’s to find out if she was off duty tonight. She was. Great. One more thing he could mark off his latest piece of scratch paper. 

And a call to the jewelry store confirmed that, yes, Mister Sikes, as they’d told him when he checked on Monday, they did indeed have the engraving ready on the pendent he’d picked out for her last Saturday and, as they’d also informed him on Monday, they would be open til six again tonight if he wanted to come and get it. Good thing he hadn’t identified himself to them as a detective or their faith in the L A P D would have dropped a notch or two. Was he, they would have wondered, this absent minded over a case? 

And of course, he wasn’t. Cases he knew how to work. Cases might baffle, worry, or intrigue him, but he knew how to work a case! He could make observations, pull together evidence reports and witness statements, sift through the details, brainstorm with his partner and apply the street smarts he’d learned both before and since he’d become a cop. Cases might bother him, tug at him, unsettle him even, but they didn’t make him…

Didn’t make him… well, um, nervous.

Not like this silly little two person party was doing.

Which, of course, was why he’d forgotten to cross “call the jewelry” store off his list of things to do. Sure was a good thing he’d had a little time to look it over while he and George waited for forensics to get back to them about some evidence in a case they’d been working on for a month now. He’d drawn a single bold, black line through “check on engraving” replaced it with “pick up pendent” and gone on to the next item on the list he’d put together on legal pads, napkins and newspaper margins the last two weeks. 

There was the name of the market where he could pick up the vegetarian foods he knew she liked. He’d hit the place on the way home from work. He made a face as he stared at the first item listed below it. Ugh. Poi. It was a Hawaiian delicacy that many humans and Newcomers loved, but which he thought tasted like wallpaper paste. Yeah, right, Sikes, when did you last sample wallpaper paste? A more appealing prospect was Maypo-naise, a mix of mayonnaise and maple syrup good for making a salad with Brussels sprouts or apricots. At least that was what she’d told him once not long ago. He hadn’t tried it yet, but maybe tonight he would… After their before-dinner drink… wine for him, vintage sour milk for Cathy. 

He’d looked down at his list. No check mark beside “milk” yet. Only the words “good brand name” and a big question mark.

Well, maybe if he was gonna pull this off and get it right, he should do what he did on a case, quit thinking of this as a one-man operation and call for back-up. 

“George, for a meal-?” he’d asked his partner across their facing desks. “What would you recommend-?”

“Insect life.” George’s eyes were bright with ideas, his voice earnest as his face appeared from behind his computer monitor. Matt’s eyebrows must have shot halfway to his hairline because George’s own brow furrowed. “Is there a problem, Matthew?”

“Yeah! You may like munching on something like that, but I’m not gonna serve Cathy insect life with dinner!”

“Well, of course not, she’s a vegetarian!” George’s gaze had been rather reproving. “I was thinking we should have asked Doctor Nakamura about the degree of post-mortem insect encroachment there had been on the victim’s bod-”

“I know she’s vegetarian! I live with her!” Matt cut in. “I’m just having this huge problem seeing them together, you know? Bugs and Brussels sprouts? Sour milk, George! What would you recommend for a nice mellow, before dinner sour milk?”

How amazing he could think of the words nice and sour milk in the same sentence. But, for a Tenctonese, it was like the finest Chardonnay or Chablis. Man, the things love could do to a guy!

Love. That plain, simple word that he’d struggled with for so long. That ache that had been stuck somewhere between his chest and his throat for months before he’d managed to name it. That was caught between his throat and his lips for several months more before he’d found the courage to say it to her outright. 

He thrummed his fingers on the edge of his desk and waited for his partner’s thoughts to come back from down among the corpses in the morgue, then journey away again to browse the shelves of his favorite liquor store. 

“July Jersey is good…” George’s voice trailed off and his face vanished behind the back of the monitor. “Or Holstein half-n-half…”

At that moment, the other thing Matt’d thought, well, halfway thought anyway, about asking George’s help with, went on hold. He knew what’d happen if he interrupted him again. George’s eyes would go wide and he’d probably repeat back Matt’s request in the rising tone of a somewhat irritated question. And then Albert, the station’s janitor, who was crossing the room toward the door and the end of his shift, would hear it. He’d come trotting over with his eager, innocent expression and offer to help. By that point, Dobbs or Zepeda or any of the other six or seven officers still at their desks would drift over to find out what was going on and… 

It wasn’t that they shouldn’t know about Cathy’s birthday. If they did, maybe he could get all of them together and do something for her after work on Friday. But , well, backup was one thing, calling in the whole SWAT team was another. To have his plans laid out in front of all of them… No, that was just too much, no matter how approving Albert’s nod or Zepeda’s smile might be! Especially the idea of so many people knowing what he was up to before Cathy herself did.  
The solution came a moment later when George’s face popped back around the monitor. This time his gaze had been focused, not on the case, but on Matt. “You’re planning a special meal of some kind for a Newcomer?” 

“Yeah, it’s Cathy’s birthday and…”

George gave a small, sage nod. “Ah, yes. And you want to have a nice little splash for her.”

“That’s ‘bash’, George.” Matt grinned. “And no, that wasn’t what I had in mind. I was thinking of something a little more… private than that. Just the two of us.”

“Oh, I see. You’re planning a romantic evening to spend coupling with Cathy?”

“Why not announce it to the whole squad room, George?” Matt sighed, then nodded. “Well, yeah, maybe something along that line. But it’s a lot more than that. I want everything to be…” he shrugged. “Special.”

Yeah, right. Why couldn’t he come up with a better word than “special”? Everybody said “special” so much that there wasn’t anything special about it any more. He wanted Cathy’s birthday to be great, unique…

He sighed in frustration. What was the right word, anyway? 

He wanted it to be… To be… Well… 

Special.

This time, George’s nod was slower. He was silent for several considering moments. “You know, Matthew, the person to ask about this is Susan. She has a knack for matching the subtleties of a good sour milk with a variety of foods and for setting a certain tone to any occasion.”

Susan! Perfect! Yeah, George’s wife, Susan! He’d gone over the details of three witness statements and two ballistics reports, then, figuring she’d be done with work for the day, called her at home. She said her favorite was a tangy little Guernsey and kefir blend. She’d sounded so pleased at the question, that, noticing George had left his desk and was over at the coffee pot engaged in a conversation with Captain Grazer, on impulse, he asked her if she could help him out with this other part of his plan and she’d said she’d be glad to. That she would- 

Oh, man, that was it! The forgotten something that had been chasing him. Susan! 

She’d said she would stop by on her way to the office-

This morning! 

What time was it now, anyway? How long had that disgusting alarm clock been screaming at him before he realized what it was and managed to kill it til tomorrow? He’d set it plenty early, but… That didn’t mean anything. A call, no matter what hour the phone rang at, was one thing. The handset would be clutched to his ear, “Detective Sikes here!” would be out of his mouth in five seconds flat and his mind would be setting some kind of activation sequence into motion. 

But that clock? He’d known it to buzz, blare, blast at him for twenty minutes before he figured out what to do with it and…

Twenty minutes? She could be pulling up in front of the building at any second! 

Turning off the water, Matt grabbed his towel, dripped his way across the bathroom tile, then hurried into the bedroom…

She could be parking her car…  
He yanked open the top drawer of the dresser. Grabbed out underwear, then socks. (only two pairs left- had to wash clothes… Shrink some more stuff into oblivion down in the old laundry room where he and Cathy used to meet. How come her things never shrunk, anyway?) Pulling open the closet door, he stood, staring inside. Those sure had been good old days when he was still in his beat cop blues and didn’t have to spare a minute’s decision over what he needed to put on that day. 

A minute he didn’t have right now when Susan could be coming down the hall…

Again, the little tug behind his brow said he was forgetting something. Not Susan, oh, no, how well he knew she was going to be here any minute, any second… 

His lists!  
They were in yesterday’s jeans. When the forensics report scrolled across George’s monitor and turned desk duty into stake-out time, he’d scooped them together and crammed them in his pockets before dashing out to the squad car. Now he did the hop- step-dressing dance in front of the closet. One leg, two. Shirt over head. One arm, two… She could be passing Cathy’s old apartment door… 

Frantic digging through the clothes basket at the bottom of the closet. (Whew, there should be hazard pay for this job, what with the contents of two overturned back-alley garbage cans ground into the elbows and knees of what he’d had on last night! About the only stinking slime not represented in there was the suspect who’d gotten away!) 

Come on, come on! Susan could be reaching for the doorbell…

Great! At last, yesterday’s jeans that had sailed right over the clothes basket last night and landed in the back of the closet!

A candy wrapper, two dead lotto tickets from Tuesday, a note for Dobbs on tomorrow’s fifth race at Santa Anita, a comb, a stick of gum- One pocket, two-

There they were, safe in the left pocket where he’d stuffed them. There was a pretty hefty stain- looked like a combination catsup, mustard and axel grease on the sheet where three sour milk names were scrawled. He wasn’t sure what the mess on the jewelry store address was, didn’t think he wanted to know. At least all the salad ingredients in that recipe from the cooking channel’s The Tenctonese Gourmet could be read.

He was about to sigh with relief when the bell chimed.

* * *

Juggling his tennis shoes and his lists, he hurried to swing the door wide. “Susan! Thanks for coming over!”

She nodded, smiling a little as she looked him up and down, then stepped inside. “Hello, Matt.” she said. “I’m really sorry I can only stay a few minutes. I got a call that my nine-thirty meeting got moved up to nine o’clock.”

“Yeah, well, that’s okay. We can make this fast. If you learn anything being a cop, it’s to expect the unexpected. You wanna sit down a minute?” He gestured toward the living room and noticed the weight of the shoes in his hand.

Nodding, Susan headed for the couch and set her briefcase on the coffee table on top of yesterday’s sports section. “You know,” she said, undoing the clasp and lifting out a pile of folders. “It probably would have been simpler if you’d just used English…”

Matt shrugged and set his scruffy tumble of lists on top of the used car ads. He looked up at her as he put on and tied one shoe, then the other. “Yeah, simpler maybe. But… I wanted… I dunno… this to be more…”

Words! Why could he never find words for all he wanted to say?

But Susan was nodding. “You wanted to communicate something more than the English could convey.”

“Yeah, right.” There was finally a moment for that delayed sigh of relief. George was right. She was the perfect person to talk to! No wonder she was so good at her advertising job! She got it! Went right inside past the words and got it! How writing a note in Cathy’s first language would say something not only about his love for her, but about his respect for who she was, for all that she was… 

Opening a folder, Susan plucked out a sheaf of papers, some green, some yellow and some pink and orange. “I think Cathy will like your idea. I brought these over so you can copy your note on something with Tenctonese colors.”

“Thanks, Susan.” He gave her a grateful smile, hoped his request wouldn’t cut too much into her very limited time. “If it doesn’t take long, could you watch me copy it so I know I get it right? Last time I tried this I ended up writing I wanted to join her inside a glass of milk.”

She nodded. “I still have a few minutes. Is this it?” She gestured to a folded scrap of newspaper beside her briefcase as Matt reached up to tuck the manufacturer’s label down the back of his collar.

“Yeah, wait, no! It’s on legal paper. Yellow. That one’s a jewelry store where I had them engrave a pendent for her. I gotta pick it up after work. It’ll go with the note. And this is…” His hands scrabbled through the jumble of legal pad pages, napkins and   
newspaper scraps. “Well, these are the three sour milks you told me about. You like this kefir one best, right? And… oh, yeah, here we go- no, this is the market where they sell the poi… lemmee see. Did I write down Maypo-naise and Brussels sprouts on there too? They’re just regular groceries … I can get them at this deli already made up. I’m gonna get them after work, along with cabbage rolls stuffed with mint, garbanzo beans and…”

The phone rang.

“…and , yeah! This has gotta be it!” He spotted a wad of crinkled yellow legal pad paper. “Hang on a minute! I’m coming” He tossed it to her as, leaping to his feet, he dashed for the wall phone by the kitchen counter. There was a whisper and flutter of papers as his knee snagged the corner of the sports section. 

“It’s all right, Matt, I’ll pick this up!” said Susan behind him.

The ring sounded again. “I said- I’m coming! I heard you the first time!” 

It better not be a wrong number! Or a political ad. Above all, it better not be a telemarketer with any of that stupid “Good morning, is this the man of the house?”! He snatched up the receiver. “Sikes here!”

It was George. “Matthew! We’ve got a lead on our suspect! I’m in the squad car. I can pick you up in three minutes.” 

The line went dead.

Three minutes. He looked from the phone to Susan who had set the papers on the coffee table, except for the yellow sheet she was studying. He sighed. “Guess I’m the one whose gonna have to cut this short. Looks like my meeting got moved up too.” 

“I know. Expect the unexpected.” Susan gave a knowing sigh and smiled up at him. “You know, this is very poetic, Matt. Very sweet and full of symbolism. I’ll be very happy to transcribe it into Tenctonese for you and Cathy and just let myself out afterward. Even if you don’t have time to copy it over yourself, I think she’ll appreciate what you wanted to do here. Just tell me what color paper you’d like to use.”

Matt was already reaching into the front closet, pulling his service revolver and its holster from the strongbox where he stored them when he was off duty. Slipping his favorite leather jacket on over them, he made an automatic check to be sure his badge and wallet were secure in place within the liner pocket. After last night’s dream, it was a good thing to be sure of all the details. “The green,” he said, snatching up his keys from their usual spot on the kitchen counter. “Like her eyes.”

“Okay, Matt, the green,” Susan said behind him as he swung open the front door.

“Thanks for everything, Susan!” he called over his shoulder.

“The green, like her eyes,” he thought he heard her repeat with a smile in her tone as the door closed behind him. “How romantic.” 

* * *

George was already waiting at the curb. “Matthew,” he turned from the wheel as Matt swung the car door wide and hopped in beside his partner. “That looked like Susan’s car in front of your building.”

“Yeah, she’s helping me with Cathy’s birthday evening.”

“Oh, your little splash. I remember.”

“That’s bash, George. Bash. I needed her to write something out in Tenctonese for me. For a card that goes with a pendent I bought her. The Tenctonese translation for what I had them engrave on it in English. Now, tell me about this lead that came in.”

“I could have written the note for you, Matthew,” George, began, moving the car away from the curb and into the flow of traffic. “I’ve often been told my penmanship-”

“Let’s leave it for now, George. What have we got on our little back alley friend?”

“It seems to me that if he were indeed our friend, he wouldn’t be requiring us to…”

“George!” Matt half growled, half groaned. But when he glanced over at his partner, Matt caught the faintest hint of a smile quirking the corner of George’s mouth. He had to hand it to the guy, after all this time, George was finally getting the hang of Earth humor, at least when it came to putting him on. He smiled a little himself and sat back in the passenger seat, finding that, as it often did, the banter between the two of them helped him settle into the rhythm of the day’s work. 

Funny, how many days had a rhythm to them. Coffee, doughnut and case review with George, first thing. Witness or suspect interviews to be conducted after that, either at the precinct house or as fieldwork. Crime scenes to investigate. Evidence to secure. Preliminary statements to gather. Evidence to catalog. Reports to write. A joke to share with Beatrice Zepeda. Supply requisitions to drop on Captain Grazer’s desk. Maybe a visit to the coroner’s office. Why did those morgue trips always seem to fall into place just before lunchtime? Shop talk with George while they ate lunch in a restaurant or out of a vending machine. A little horseracing or baseball chat with Dobbs. Reports to read. Warrants to request, to collect and enforce. Maybe a suspect or two to process through booking… A certain pace, a certain predictability. Something familiar, something that, on a day like today with a whole list of errands to be sandwiched in at lunch and finished up afterward, could kind of be relied on…

Except, of course, when it couldn’t.

Expect the unexpected, he’d told Susan.

Yeah, well, why hadn’t he listened to himself? It would’ve made this particular day easier to deal with when its beat kept changing tempo.

It had started off looking brisk. George showing up in the squad car, with a called in tip from a witness in Little Tencton. But, by the time they were halfway there, his gut told him things were gonna slow way, way down. Before they could follow up with the lead, they needed the complete address, part of which had been obscured by a lot of background noise. There was more than an hour spent just driving around, looking for the right street and building numbers. 

Little Tencton was hard, sometimes. The poverty, the signs of homelessness… Things for which he’d had to learn to put his heartache on hold. A long time ago in other places, and all over again, here, after the Newcomers came. And he could do it when he had to, most of the time, except when the face of a child pierced through. 

Not this morning though. Today, it was all business. All grinding details of the search. By the time they located her place, their witness had already left for work. After that came the challenge of discovering a neighbor who could tell them where she worked. A neighbor that was, who’d be willing to share that information with the cops…

Before they’d at last made contact with the witness, got a preliminary statement and made arrangements for her to get down to the station to give evidence, it was already past lunchtime.

As he and George climbed back into their squad car for the ride back to the station, Matt found last night’s dream hadn’t really dissolved in the shower this morning after all. Only waited til his mind wasn’t filled up with all the immediate and official concerns of being Detective Sergeant Sikes. Now that the rhythm of the day had paused, and he had nothing but hunger demanding even an iota of his attention, it’s creepy old sense of being pursued was back. Only difference was, he knew now exactly what was after him. 

Ironically, it was time. Here he’d really laid out a nice set of plans, way in advance, too. Mapped out all the details, one by one-

And forgotten that good old cop’s motto about the unexpected. And now time was biting at his heels as the hour to put those details into motion came closer and closer...

If only he had been able to pick up that pendent at the jeweler’s on the way home last night. Or the one before that even. But between a couple of last minute bookings and then that stakeout, he hadn’t gotten out of work all week til way after the place closed. Well, tonight for sure. George, he knew, would do whatever he could to help him cut loose of the station early. What was a friend and a partner for if not to turn to in time of need? George knew he wanted to put something together for Cathy’s birthday. And besides that, Cathy had come to be almost like family to him, too. 

It would all work out. It had to.   
Jewelers, then groceries. He could’ve maybe stopped at the market last night, they were open twenty four seven, but where could he have hidden all the perishables where Cathy wouldn’t find them? At least, between finding a deli that made up the cabbage rolls, and planning a vegetarian friendly salad, he really didn’t have to worry about cooking anything once he got home. Just chop up the lettuce, cauliflower and onions, add the Brussels sprouts and apricots and stir in the Maypo-naise… Yeah, it was gonna work out. He could handle that. Might even be able have a few minutes to copy the little Tenctonese note for the pendent…   
It was gonna happen. Man, it was gonna be perfect!  
And hey, when it came right down to it, there was actually no time like the present. The market was, after all, right on the way from here back to the precinct house. Maybe George could snag them both something to eat at the fast food joint right across the street while Matt ran in and got what he needed. It wouldn’t take more than five, ten minutes max to dash in, grab the items on his list and be back on the road to headquarters. With any luck, the market might even have one of Susan’s recommended brands of sour milk!  
Except that…  
The list was gone! Food, milk, jewelers! Gone! He checked his pockets. Jeans, shirt, jacket. Wallet, badge, notepad with questions for this morning’s witness. But all his lists were gone!  
He’d had them… Where? When?  
He was showing them to Susan just before the phone rang and they’d fanned out across the floor beside the coffee table as he’d jumped up to get the call.  
Damn! They were back there on top of yesterday’s sports section at his apartment! He could see them now, clear as anything between a picture of a horse running tomorrow at Santa Anita and the box score from the night before last’s match between the good old Dodgers and the Brew Crew from Milwaukee… The horse had been called Straight Talking and L A had completely tanked the game eleven to three. And to Milwaukee, no less! And right on top of that useless trivia were those vital lists! Oh, man!

But, hey! His place wasn’t really so far from here. Maybe there’d be time to swing by real quick and grab-

The radio crackled. “One William fifty two, please report your current location. We need every squad car in the proximity of Alden and…”

No time for a dash home, to the market or even anywhere for a bite of lunch. Not when the tempo of the day was speeding up from drag to dynamo as the cross street the dispatcher named was only four blocks away from their current location.

“And, back to where we spent such a long and memorable time together last night!” Matt said to his partner. “Now, I just wonder what he could be heading back there for!” Already Matt was pressing the button to activate the siren even as he saw George’s hands tighten on the wheel and the vibration of the car’s acceleration rose through his feet. There was an instant as he reached to key in the mike to give a vocal response to headquarters, when an ache tightened somewhere in his guts. Oh, Cathy, he was gonna do everything he could to make this evening happen for her, but he had to face the possibility that the birthday plan might not work out, after all. Not once good old Detective Sergeant Sikes took over Matt’s day. 

Wasn’t that what Victoria used to get so angry with him about? That his job took up so much of his time and attention? So much of the love that should have gone to his family? Of course, he’d only been Officer Sikes back then, without the fancy title to go along with his name. Just a regular cop riding in a regular old black and white through the streets of L A, on duty all hours of the day and night, spoiling so many plans! 

But then, Cathy wasn’t Victoria. She wasn’t seventeen, hoping for the perfect life with her high school steady who, of course, would always share her every dream. She wasn’t marrying a kid who hadn’t known yet that he wanted to become a cop . Cathy was a doctor, a professional, whose job held commitments of its own that could eat up her time and energy as much as his could. That was something they could both respect, something they both understood. He couldn’t speak for her, but he knew that her dedication was part of what he’d come to love about her. What he did know was that, though she had told him that she didn’t know how to go about living with another person, Doctor Frankel had never questioned when she moved in with Matt, that Detective Sergeant Sikes came right along as part of the package.

Man, he was a lucky guy. There was that one split second of regret for the plans that seemed to be falling apart in his hands, and another in which to tell himself that he wasn’t gonna go there. Not yet, anyway. He wasn’t gonna give up on the whole thing, just because he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it til later. 

And then the siren howled to life. Matt drew a deep breath as his reaching finger keyed on the mike. “One William one fifty two reporting to base. We copy and are responding. Our E T A to Alden is two minutes, max…” he said as the car sliced into the flow of traffic and, from there, Detective Sikes took over. 

* * *

How, when a morning could drift and drag along so slowly, could an afternoon flash by almost between one minute and the next? Adrenaline, he was sure of it. Adrenaline that heightened instincts, sharpened the senses, turned on a kind of telepathy between one cop and another and allowed action at a moment’s notice. All the weeks of examining crime scenes, reviewing items of evidence, talking to the coroner’s office, to the forensics lab, to a couple dozen witnesses had been steadily been building toward this… 

The day when that one last, crucial piece of information fell into place and all the dominoes began to tumble…

Another witness, one they thought they’d gotten nowhere with over the last three weeks, had finally decided to break her silence. She’d gone in and made a positive photo I D to Sergeant Dobbs back at headquarters. That, combined with the information they’d gotten this morning was enough to get a warrant for arrest issued. And a report from an informant that the suspect had been sighted traveling on foot in this area less than twenty minutes ago had them pulling up near an all too familiar abandoned auto repair shop next door to a fast food place. Two black and whites were already on the scene along with another unmarked car like their own. Plans for capture and arrest were laid, officers positioned for both search and backup.

George had taken the side of the building leading to the fire escape, while Matt had the side bordering the trash can lined mouth of a long, narrow back alley. From somewhere near the front of the building, Matt could hear a voice shouting over a megaphone. Sounded like it could’ve been Zepeda. Above it, came another sound. Not loud, but clearer. Closer. Growing louder. The rattle of pebbles, the thudding of running feet coming toward his end of the alley. Closer, closer… Matt started forward, pausing just out of sight around the corner of the building. In the slanting light of a late afternoon sun, he could see a long, thin shadow fleeing before a figure that was still just out of sight. Kind of like his own shadow had fled ahead of him in those headlights last night…

Leaping forward, Matt grasped a large green garbage container and thrust it ahead of him into the alley. With a dull clatter, it careened into the runner’s path and sent them both tumbling across the concrete. Before the suspect could clamber to his feet amid the scatter of greasy rags, napkins, paper cups and food wrappers, Matt swooped down on him. He had the guy’s arms pinned behind his back and was already securing the cuffs on his wrists as George dashed round the corner. He was standing beside his partner and listening as George read the catsup, mustard and soda spattered suspect his Miranda rights when, moments later, Dobbs and Zepeda converged on the scene. 

There hadn’t been much surprise in discovering the near kilo of Jack stashed in the dust and grime encrusted old auto shop. Matt stared down at the plastic zipper bag, poorly stashed within the one dirt free cabinet at the side of the repair bay. In the dim light he studied the faint glimmer of the pale blue powder and shook his head. Well, here it was. The haul they’d been hunting for, for how long now? On the street it would have cost hundreds of thousands of dollars. It had cost the narcotics squad and the homicide unit weeks of work and, back before the investigation had even begun, processing and dealing the drug had cost at least three people their lives. 

Soon, in some other part of L A, more jonafrin would appear. More deals would be transacted, more deaths would probably occur. But for a while, in this neighborhood at least, there were a few suppliers who wouldn’t be passing it along to adventure seeking teens at a party, or innocent little kids at the school yard. That made today’s work and all the countless hours that led up to it a good thing. There was a certain satisfaction to be found in knowing that. But right now, most of what he was feeling was a sweeping kind of relief, along with the first heaviness creeping into his arms and legs that said the afternoon’s supply of adrenaline was running out. 

Matt looked from the jonafrin to his partner and saw some of the same tiredness reflected in George’s face. This case had filled so much of their time over the last month. Now, except for the paperwork and, perhaps, months from now, an appearance in court to give testimony at trial, it was over. 

It was George who broke the silence. “Since, Matthew, you were actually the officer who located the jonafrin, I would appreciate it if you would coordinate the wrap up with the team from the Narcotics Division. Sergeant Dobbs and I can get him back to the station start processing him through booking while the evidence is tagged and weighed.” 

Matt nodded. After what George had been put through a while back, being set up to look like he’d filed a false weight report on another drug bust, he couldn’t blame the guy for wanting to put a little distance between himself and that part of the job. And, since George was a Detective Two now, it was up to him how the duties were divided. “Okay, George,” said Matt. “No problem. It’s your call. I’ll catch you back at headquarters.”

George’s eyes widened. “My… call? Oh, yes, my decision. Of course. That does remind me, I do need to call Susan. I have to let her know that I’m running far too late to pick up the bladder and ligaments I had originally planned for dinner tonight. Maybe she can send Buck to the market for them…”

Dinner! Oh, man, dinner! Cathy! He blinked, shook his head. Weird as it felt to realize it, this case was over. After more than a month, really over. All that was left now was some paper work and a few loose ends to be tied up back at headquarters. All at once, there was a whole other world out there beyond the walls of the station house. A world where he had a real home to go to and a wonderful woman to see when he got there. A world in which there was still a lot of party planning to do. 

He glanced at his watch. The shadows in the alley were growing a little long. But not as long as they would be later. Four o’clock, maybe? No, it was ten after already… Time was getting pretty tight now, but maybe all wasn’t lost! Headquarters. Jewelers by six, then the market and… But- damn! The address, the grocery list…

“Sergeant,” a petite Newcomer female appeared at his elbow, carrying a hand scale. There was a rather tall, gangly human male following a few feet behind her. “I’m Officer Stella Zene from Narcotics,” she said. “Officer Nelson is here to dust for prints. Then he and I will serve as witnesses while you secure and weigh the evidence.” 

He blinked. The scale, the evidence…

“Right,” said Sergeant Sikes, stepping aside as Officer Nelson came forward, pulling on a pair of bright blue rubber gloves. 

* * *

It was over an hour later when he finished checking in at the evidence locker back at the precinct house. The jonafrin had been cataloged and, to Matt’s relief, was measured at a weight matching that taken at the crime scene, before being given a file number and put away under lock and key. As he pounded down the echoing wide old staircase, he caught sight of George on the far side of the open area between Captain Grazer’s office and the booking area. He was hurrying past the alcove of vending machines and custodian’s supply closet, and was about to enter the twisting and turning maze of pathways between the desks of a dozen detectives.  
“Hey, George,” Matt took the last three steps at a bound. His voice was a bit breathless as he hurried to catch up with his partner and passed a fat manila folder into his hand. “Here are the hardcopies of the documentation from upstairs. I signed off on them already, but they’ll need your signature as well…”

George nodded. “As Detective Two, it is my responsibility to…”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. To tie up all the loose ends.” Matt grinned. There was a time when the reminder of George’s promotion would have rankled. Today, it was kind of a relief not to be the one that was in charge. “Hey, George, what with the suspect and that Jack all wrapped up for the time being, you got any problem with me cutting out of here so I can pick up the stuff for Cathy? I dunno, but I think I might just be able to make it. If I hit all the green lights and get into the express lane at the store and if…”  
George gave a half committal nod as he studied the folder Matt had given him. It seemed to take him an eternity to study the words scrawled across its cover. Another one for him to flip through the first couple of pages. “There shouldn’t be a problem with that, Matthew. But let’s take these over to your desk so I can look at what it is that I’ll be signing. If everything is in order, then-”

Sergeant Sikes nodded, even as Matt suppressed the urge to groan. 

Of course. It was procedure. He understood that. Police work was full of procedures. Big ones, small ones. Precise, exacting, detailed procedures. Ninety nine per cent of them made sense. The other one per cent he could almost always live with. But why, even if they made perfect sense, did the details have to be so damn detailed anyway, especially on a day like this when he was running later and later with every changing number on his digital watch? 

“Oh, Sergeant Sikes,” Albert emerged from the janitor’s closet with a huge package of paper towels in his hand. Hugging them to his chest, he half jogged in their direction. “There’s a message for you from-”

George turned. “I think, Matthew, this might be something important,” he said.

Again, Matt managed not to groan, even as he fought to control a sinking feeling in his guts. Sounded like the day wasn’t yet over for Detective Sergeant Sikes after all… Sighing, he wove his way between Dobbs’ and Zepeda’s desks and toward his own.

He stopped. Stared at a large, orange and yellow paper bag with stiff handles on it, sitting right in the middle of the battered green blotter on his desk, smack dab in front of his computer monitor. He moved in on it carefully, wondering where- or who- it might have come from.

Albert was grinning at him. No, beaming, was the word that came to mind. Matt divided a glance between him and his partner. George was smiling at him, too.

“Susan brought this by for you about ten minutes ago,” said Albert. “I thought at first it might be for you, George, but she said she wanted to help Matt do something about Cathy’s birthday tonight. You know, Sergeant Sikes,” he turned back to Matt. “We never really celebrated our birthdays before we came here, but it is a custom I really like. Maybe,” he added. “You could help me plan something for May next month?”

Matt’s throat tightened as he peered down into the bag. There was a note. “Matt,” it read on the envelope in Susan’s flowing handwriting.

Beside him, there was the faint rustle of paper. Folder in hand, George moved to peer over his shoulder. He was smiling.

Dear Matt,

I called George late this morning to say I’d bring your note for Cathy by the station at lunchtime, along with the lists you left on the coffee table when you dashed out the door. I have to do the same for George with our own grocery list when the unexpected happens.   
Albert said the two of you were in Little Tencton on a case and didn’t know when you’d be back, but with all the activity around the station, he thought it might be a while. Usually, that means a long while. Since Buck has class tonight and I didn’t want another dinner of the last minute bladder and ligaments George usually picks up when he’s running behind schedule, I decided to do the marketing myself. Since I already had your list, I picked up your groceries as well as ours. You’ll find a couple of extra items I thought would add to the meal, and a bottle of the kefir blend I mentioned is in there, too.   
The jewelry store was on the way between the market and the station, so, what with you and George working so late recently, I stopped to check on your purchase there as well. The man said you had already paid for the engraving, but hadn’t come to pick the pendent up. He asked to see my identification, took down my name and address, then allowed me to pick that up for you as well. The box is tucked down the side of the bag, along with your lovely, poetic note for Cathy. Sorry I didn’t get the chance to help you copy it, but at least it’s written out so you’ll be able to give it to her. It’s in a little green and yellow envelop. I didn’t have a chance to ask you, but I took the liberty of writing her Tenctonese name, Gelanna on it. I hope the two of you have a lovely evening.  
Thank you for the chance to be a part of your celebration. 

Susan

 

“I think, Albert, it’s Susan you need to talk to!” Matt spoke around the lump rising in his throat. He sank into his chair, lifted the bag down into his lap, and, with careful fingers, began to examine the goodies. He could almost see the evening taking beautiful shape again as he turned up one item after another. Apricots, onions. Yeah, it was gonna be great. Poi- yuk. But, lettuce? Yeah. Brussels sprouts, cabbage rolls. Awesome. He found the things that weren’t on the list, and realized that Susan was right, they would go great with everything else. Two pretty little tangerines, a package of delicate rice crackers, a plastic tub of garlic and pesto hummus. “Oh, man, George! I owe her one!” he grinned up at his partner. “A great big one!” 

George was still smiling. “I’m sure she would tell you, it’s the least she could do for our little Vessna’s Godfather.”

“You were in on this, weren’t you?”

“Yes,” said George. “Susan told me what she had done when I called her from the squad car on the way here with Dobbs. I knew about your plans and that we were getting far too pressed for time for you to complete all your preparations. As it turns out, she and I had the same thought. I, however, didn’t realize she already had your list in hand. Albert was to keep an eye out and steer you over this way, in case you were done upstairs before I finished processing our prisoner through booking, and decided to leave your evidence report with clerical instead of dropping it by your desk.”

Matt looked from George’s smiling face, to Albert’s. “Thanks a lot, guys.”

“It was my pleasure, Sergeant,” said Albert.

“And mine,” added George. He was still smiling, though his tone grew brisk. “Now, Matthew, if you want to complete your preparations before Cathy gets home, I think it’s time you slit the scene.” 

Matt managed a smile of his own, though there was a stinging behind his eyelids. He swallowed hard. “That’s ‘split’, George. Split the scene.” 

“I believe,” said George. “That you are right. Split the scene. And as Detective Two, I also believe that I’ve just given you an order.”

After all the worry, the old cop car dream, the crazy hours and the left behind lists, everything was gonna work out, after all. More than working out, it was gonna be perfect! It was gonna be-

There was still no better word he could come up with-

It was gonna be… Special.

* * *

Matt was whistling as he drew the car into its usual parking spot beside his building. He got the market bag out of the passenger’s side, then reached in for the potted flowers he’d set on the seat beside it. When he’d passed the florist’s shop, he’d thought first about a bouquet of silky red roses, then decided- no. Beautiful, but… Way too formal. Too solemn and serious. And the Tenctonese had a thing about cut flowers dying when they were separated from the soul of the plant. He didn’t know, but maybe they had a point there. 

What he did know was that roses didn’t say “Cathy” to him. Instead, he’d opted for the daisies. Pink and yellow daisies in a big green pot. Bright. Cheerful. And, she could put them in the garden she been wanting to start for the last year or so up on the roof. 

Juggling them in his arms, he banged the door shut with his hip and started inside. Now, if his luck held, she wouldn’t be there yet. He could get into the apartment, get out the wine- or milk- or whatever ya-wanna-call-em- glasses, then set out the candles. In other words, take a little time to enjoy getting everything right for Cathy.

No sign of her car. That didn’t necessarily mean anything. Sometimes she parked round back, but it was a good start, anyway. He paused, halfway down the hall. None of the wind-chime kind of music she favored floated out from behind their door. There was only silence as he slipped the key into the lock. No lights on. No sound of the shower running. No sweet voice calling out “Hello Matt!” as he closed the door behind him.

So far, so good. 

He grinned as he set the bag on the kitchen counter. May Celene and Andarko smile broadly on Susan and George! And Albert, too. Thanks to all of them, this was going to work out after all. Wasn’t it?

There was a little red light flashing on the message machine. Striding across the room, he pressed the button and heard a sweet, lilting voice fill the room. “Hello, Matt?”

Matt’s breath caught.

“It’s quarter to six. I just called to tell you that I won’t be home until-”

Oh, no, Oh, man, oh, God, oh, Celene- oh Somebody!- Don’t tell me! She pulled an extra shift tonight, she won’t be home- 

“-about quarter after seven.” She finished. “See you then. I love you.”

His breath released on a sigh of relief.

She’d be home to celebrate her birthday! And- he checked his watch- just late enough that he should be able to get everything set up for the occasion! 

He’d told George once that he couldn’t sing. And he didn’t think he could, exactly- except maybe in the shower, where, truth be told, he thought he sounded pretty good. And in the kitchen sometimes, while he banged around in the cupboards. He launched into a gusty version of an old Beatles’ song “Ya say it’s your birthday…” as he pulled a big blue bowl off a top shelf for the salad. He ripped open the bag of lettuce, rinsed it under cold water, tossed it in the bowl, then added the Brussels sprouts, apricots, onions and, finally, the Maypo-naise. 

He found a flat green platter for the cabbage rolls. The rice crackers would fit on the other end just fine. They didn’t look half bad on the table by the salad, either. The paper towels weren’t exactly elegant, but they worked out pretty well when he folded them in half to form triangles and laid the silverware on top of them. 

The hummus could stay in the little plastic tub it had come in, couldn’t it? The tangerines looked absolutely cool when he set them near the fat cream colored candle Cathy had bought for one of the end tables by the couch. He positioned the carton of kefir between it and the daisies. Nice. Yeah, real nice. 

There was a quick dash to the living room to get his old Who disk out of the C D player. Somehow the heavy drums and wailing electric guitars just didn’t set the tone he was going for. Instead, he inserted a music disk that sounded like flutes interwoven with wind-chimes and bells. A last trip to the cupboard to get down their plates and the drink glasses, low round ones for water and- stemware! They were called stemware!- for the kefir, and one to the counter to collect the jar of that wallpaper paste stuff, which he set at her place. Then he could stand back and survey his creation.

Not bad. Not bad at all.

And not a minute too soon, either.

There were footsteps in the hall. Cathy’s? Coming closer. Stopping outside the door.

He had the matches for the candle ready in his hand. He struck one and touched the flame to the wick. A golden glow flooded the table as he heard the scratch and scrape of a key slipping into the lock. Blowing out the match, he dropped it into a glass of water by the sink. He passed the little package with the Tenctonese note to “Gelanna” tucked inside its dark green ribbon, waiting on the corner of the counter. Everything was done. Everything was ready! Even his Uncle Jack’s old telescope was all ready. It had been stashed carefully behind the door so they could carry it to the roof later and look for Cygnus the Swan. It had all come together!

He hurried round the end of the counter, to where he could watch the doorknob turn. 

“Hello, Matt!” Cathy’s cheerful voice rang out as the door swung open “I’m home! Sorry, I’m late-”

She stopped as he walked to the door and surrounded her with a hug. “No. You’re not late. You’re here right on time! Happy Birthday, Cathy!” 

“Oh, Matt!” she exclaimed when he stepped back, took her hand and led her toward the table. She stopped, her hand tightening in his while she stared. When she spoke, her voice was soft, husky. “Thank you!”

Little gold reflections of candlelight shimmered in the tears that brimmed in her green eyes, even as her smile glowed. “We never celebrated birthdays on the ship. We never had a reason to, really, even if we did know when they were. Maybe everybody was just to anonymous there. Or maybe we were all to scared of being separated to risk cherishing anyone enough for this kind of celebration. When I came here, I heard it was a day to celebrate with loved ones. But, well, living alone, I just never gave my birthday much thought. This is the first time anyone ever celebrated it with me…”

He didn’t wait for her to finish. He remembered the hurt and anger that had boiled in his guts when he thought of where she’d come from and his wish to hold her close, protect her from anything that might harm her… Or even leave her feeling lonely, or worse, forgotten or unnoticed… 

Putting his arm around her, he pulled her close again, cradling her head on his shoulder and raising a hand to stroke the moisture on her cheek. 

Man, he was so glad he’d planned this for her. Done something to let her know that she was valued, not for what task or service she could perform, but for the wonderful, strong, kind, sweet, funny person that she was. More glad than he could ever say. His voice came out as husky as hers had done. “Your first celebration, Cathy, but definitely not your last.”

What was cool about their dinner was that everything kept getting better and better. Cathy liked the tangerines, enjoyed the cabbage rolls and quite thoroughly loved the salad. “What did I tell you, Matt, about this Maypo-naise?” The music lilted and chimed as they took turns passing each other the rice crackers. He dipped his in the hummus. Cathy kept switching back and forth between that and the poi, then laughed at the face Matt made when he saw her scoop a large dollop of each onto her plate and blend them together. He smiled when she buried her face in the bright daisy petals. When the meal was finished, they toasted each other with kefir.

“It’s almost dark,” he told her at last. “I was thinking we could head on up to the roof to look at your swan.”

“All right,” said Cathy. “Should I put the dishes in the sink, first?”

“Leave ‘em. They’ll wait for us til we come back. Come on!” Rising, he came round the table, pulled back her chair for her and took her hand again. “I got the telescope all ready to go. We just gotta make one stop on the way, here.” 

Getting to her feet, she allowed herself to be guided as he hurried to the counter, where he stopped to pick up the brightly wrapped box. “This is for you. Happy Birthday again, Cathy.”

Watching her face was like looking through a kaleidoscope and seeing a strange and beautiful tumble of emotions. Wonder, awe, confusion, aching tenderness, joy, delight, curiosity… He felt a delighted grin spread across his face as he handed her the box.  
Cathy’s hand shook a little as she took it. She gave him a quick, almost shy smile that squeezed at his heart as she slipped the note out from beneath a dark green ribbon. She unfolded the green sheet of paper and then began to read the message to herself.

Her eyes glowed.

Matt fidgeted, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, fighting to keep his eager grin under control. Would she like the pendent? Had he found all the right English words to put in his note and to have engraved on the back of it to say what he wanted her to know? 

Could Susan’s Tenctonese translation convey how deeply he meant them?

Cathy’s brow furrowed.

She squinted hard at the writing.

A ripple of uneasiness shivered across the back of Matt’s neck. 

Cathy’s eyes lifted to his. “Matt?” her tone was apologetic. “I don’t think I am reading this right…” Her free hand raised, brushed his temple, a gesture of affection and reassurance, as a hopeful note crept into her voice. “I’m sorry. Maybe, since you wrote it, you could read it to me.” 

He shook his head. “Oh, man, Cathy, I can’t read Tenctonese that well yet- not to read it out loud anyway. I mean, I wrote down what I wanted to say in English and then I asked Susan if she would translate it for me. That way, I could copy it over and know I’d gotten everything written down right. I didn’t want to land us inside a jug of milk again this time. But with the way work’s been and everything, I never got the chance to copy it down. Well, here. Let me look. I’ll see what I can do.”

Matt couldn’t tell if it was concern, humor or confusion tugging at the corners of her mouth as she passed the page back to him. 

He stared down at the sharply angled marks marching across the bright green page. Even after all this time, his first thought on seeing Tenctonese writing, was how much it looked like the tracks showing on a heart monitor. All those spikes and valleys, those up and down lines… 

All those lines? 

What he’d written…

Well, it shouldn’t need that many lines…

Should it? No! It was only supposed to match what he’d had engraved on the back of the pendent. There was enough here to fill up one of those big gold medals they handed out to the winners at the Olympic Games…

His mouth went dry. Everything had been going so well up til now. He hadn’t wanted to confuse Cathy, or concern her. What on Earth had he given Susan to translate, anyway? What could have seemed poetic enough for her to copy without questioning the contents of it? 

“Um, Cathy… I’ve got no idea what this says. Maybe…” He cleared his throat. “You’d better read this out loud… For both of us.”

“Okay,” she said, reaching for the little sheet of green paper. She took a deep breath, studied it again for a moment, then began to read.

Who Loves Ya  
-nine to five  
Every Evening  
-five to one  
Guy Like Me-  
-not given much of a chance, but who knows?  
Mutual Future  
-uncertain, untried, but hopeful.  
-But what’s my odds on favorite?  
Straight Talkin’  
-one to one

He groaned.

Cathy looked up, her eyes widening with concern. “Matt? Are you all right?”

He staggered across to the couch and sank down, shaking his head. “I gave Susan the wrong paper! Oh, man, Cathy! That was… I don’t believe it! That was some notes I made for Sergeant Dobbs on the fifth race tomorrow at Santa Anita! This note was supposed to be just a little something I wanted to say to you about how I feel… ”

Cathy started to laugh. He wasn’t certain if he wanted to join in the laughter, or just groan some more. Of all things to give Susan! His prospect list for a race at Santa Anita! Had she really thought it was a love poem of some kind? It was only a handful of words on a sheet of legal paper-

And then he saw it. 

A splash of yellow on the carpet, almost hidden behind the leg of the coffee table. He snatched it up, careful to glance at it before he handed it to Cathy. 

“I meant to give this to Susan to translate- not that! It’s supposed to be the Tenctonese to match what’s written in the box.”

Without more than glancing at it, Cathy crumpled the legal sheet in her hand, then tossed it on to the center of the coffee table. There was humor lighting her face, but at the same time, that naked tenderness was shining in her eyes again as she carried the box over to where he sat, then sank down on the couch beside him. She snuggled her shoulder against his and unwrapped the crinkling emerald colored tissue and lifted the lid of the box. 

“Then,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “Let’s skip the copy and find out what the original says, shall we?”

Slowly she lifted out the contents, watching golden links of chain uncoil between her fingers with the soft, shurring sound of metal on metal. “This… This is beautiful!” she said in a hushed, almost reverent tone as she held it up for the pendent to hang free. It was in the shape of a heart. An elegant line drawing made in gold. Within it, nestled so that they intertwined, were two more, smaller hearts, the lines of which completed the base of the first one. 

For several moments, they sat in silence and watched the candle glow play on its curving golden surfaces as it hung, swinging gently back and forth, between them. “Oh, Matt! This is beautiful.” 

Her shoulder pressed warm against his as she sighed. “Now, let’s see what it says.”

She gathered the pendent into her palm, turned it over and gazed at the words for several moments, then read:

To Cathy,  
Three hearts  
Two souls  
One love.  
Now and always,  
Matt.

There was a moment of silence. 

There was a need to clear his throat. The candle light before him was shimmering as that sting behind his eyelids returned. Through its dazzle, Matt caught the flicker of a shadow in motion…

He blinked. Once, twice, and his vision cleared. Cathy, moving light and quick, was raising graceful arms to pull him close. There was the sound of her sweet voice humming its special love song just for him. Louder, louder… 

Brilliant green eyes, capturing him, holding him in their gaze-

Matt turned to her and reached out his own arms to gather her in.

In this dream, there was no need to run as they held each other-

Closer, closer, closer…


End file.
